King's Grove
by Hikako
Summary: A little bit of fluff I wrote for my favorite couple. Aragorn comes home from the war with the Haradrim and takes a little side-trip.


Disclaimer; I don't own LOTR I just borrowed the characters. 

King's Grove   
by Hikako 

AN: I changed the way Eowyn is portrayed a little and she and Aragorn are a little OC but I hope you like. 

It was nearly dawn before Aragorn and the armies of Gondor caught sight of Minas Tirith, glowing brightly white in the rising sun. Instead of heading straight for the city Aragorn kicked his horse and raced across the great plain to a small cloister of trees that grew at the base of the mountains. As he neared closer Aragorn stopped Brego, got down, and slowly walked towards the trees. A rustle in the bushes caught his attention and, before he could draw his blade, Eowyn's smiling face burst from the bushes, and the White Lady of Rohan threw herself into Aragorn's arms. 

Aragorn felt laughter bubbling up in his chest, he was getting accustomed to such gestures from the impulsive, young, Eorlingas. She always, however, drew away quickly, too quickly in Aragorn's opinion, like fire that flares and retreats. This time, away from public eyes and judging stares, she did not seem to inclined to pull away. Her slim arms were clamped around his neck in a death grip and her breath felt hot through the linen of his shirt, setting his skin aflame. 

Although he was loath to break the embrace, he buried his rough hands in Eowyn's gold colored hair and tilted her chin so he could look in her eyes. "There are a great many thing I must tell you, my lady." Eowyn's eyes shined as they twinkled merrily in the rising sun, full of mischief and teasing. "There is an old saying in Rohan, 'There are those who dream, and those who think.'" Eowyn softly told her lover mockingly, "And there are many who talk more than is healthy." Aragorn's answering smile was slow and incredulous. "It seems to me, my lady, that there is a great deal we must talk about." Eowyn purred slightly as she rested her head on his shoulder and traced his chin with the tips of her fingers. "Words can wait." 

Aragorn found himself in complete agreement. 

Impulsively Aragorn swept the tiny Northern woman into his arms and proceeded to carry her deeper into the grove. To his surprise, and delight, Eowyn didn't object. Indeed, she guided his path with whispered directions and hurried his pace with promises that would have seemed acrobatically impossible if Aragorn already wasn't aware of what Eowyn was capable of. And in the moments that she did not speak, her lips and teeth found keenly sensitive spots on his neck and throat and ears that he had not known he had possessed. Sometimes gently, and sometime not, she teased him to near madness. Aragorn was not certain how far into the grove they had gone- a few steps would've seemed as long as a league to him- but at last Eowyn, with deft ease that spoke of experience in such situations, wriggled from Aragorn's grasp and glided down to the moss carpeted ground. 

There at the foot of a tall oak tree was laid out a large blanket with a dozen plush pillows. For once Aragorn did not stop to think of the vast differences of a King of Gondor and a Rohirrim lady, or the unresolved emotions that had haunted each of them since the ill-fated time of Frodo and the Ring. He only cared that this time there was no fear, embarassment, or regret in Eowyn's eyes. Their union, at the base of the oak tree, was unlike anything Aragorn had known or even imagined-a fierce, joyful thing that was rivalled by the abandonment of battle rage. 

Much, much, later Aragorn stroked Eowyn's damp curls and watched her as she slept. He himself had no desire to sleep. He was merely content to watch his love as she rested, for never had he felt so alive. For the first time he admitted to himself that his love for Arwen had quickly burned away in the infernal heat of his love for the tiny, strong, woman. The surge of annoyance that crept along his spine would have been dangerous in a lesser man as he heard one of his personnel guards calling for him. 

"My lord?" Artus, a new edition to the Royal Guard, yelled out into the grove, "My lady?" The young man stood at the brink of the King's Grove and tried to see any sign of the King emerging. 

Aragorn groaned softly as he quickly, and quietly, slipped out of Eowyn's arms and began to put his armor back on. He nearly had it all on before his wife came out of her rest-filled sleep. "You have only just returned!" Eowyn said crossly as her husband began to leave. Aragorn looked back at his wife, a blanket wrapped around her and her upper body propped up against a pile of pillows. Her brow was knitted and her bottom lip was thrust out in a pouting fashion. Aragorn smiled and kneeled next to his little queen. 

"What would you say," Eowyn said as she stared archly at her husband, "if I told you that Faramir had sent us a wedding gift?" Aragorn's face became cloudy and sounding more harsh then he meant to said, "Send it back." Eowyn smirked and replied, "Then it is good he did not. Or we would be having our first argument, right after our first time as man and wife." 

Another shot from Artus made Aragorn stand up. "I must go. The advisors will want to speak to me about the battles with the Haradrim." He slowly turned and walked away. He never even saw the pillow hurtle towards his head until it bounced off his head and sent him face first to the ground. Aragorn looked back at his jilted bride, who stared crossly in the opposite direction, and smiled. Yes, he thought, life was going to get a lot more interesting with his fiery little wife with him. 


End file.
